


Stone by Stone

by Scylla87



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Baratheon Bastards, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Found Family (kind of), Gen, House Baratheon, Pack Building, Rating Will Almost Certainly Change, Young Love, will update tags as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 02:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20301877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scylla87/pseuds/Scylla87
Summary: In the Riverlands two bastards find their worlds turned upside down when they meet and are forced to band together. But that is only the beginning of the story...





	Stone by Stone

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that I have been playing with for awhile. I really wanted to explore the relationship between Gendry and Edric and what might happen if they ever met. This is purely fantasy on my part, but this was an idea that interested me. Right now it is rated T, but I imagine once Arya makes an entrance that might change. Let me know what you think. Thank you so much for reading.

Chapter 1: The Inn at the Crossroads

Edric Storm sat in shadow, eyes scanning the room. The inn was far more crowded than he would like. All the men who filled the tables around where he and his companions sat were strangers, and he had learned in the last couple of years that he couldn’t trust strangers. If one of them were to recognize him… The thought left a coldness in his heart, and his hands reached up to the hood of his cloak and pulled it over his disheveled black hair. No one could be allowed to recognize him; cousin Andrew had made that perfectly clear. Coming back was dangerous, but that damage was already done. Now all he could do was hope that he could hide in plain sight.

He was supposed to be safe in Lys now, far away from the wars and the uncle that wanted to kill him. But instead he was here, in a dark corner of an inn deep in the war-torn Riverlands, wondering when or if someone would recognize him. How long until he was on his way back to Dragonstone, on his way back to his death? He adjusted the hood that covered his face once more, trying to pull the fabric even further down to hide himself from view. The world on the edges of his view darkened as his face slipped further into shadow. It had been a long hard road that had drug them back to Westeros. His cousin Andrew certainly hadn’t wished to come back, but after the sickness had taken most of the companions that had sailed out with them from Dragonstone, the men had given them little choice. Ser Andrew had even fallen to begging and pleading, reminding the men how much Edric looked like his father, how unsafe it was for him to return, but the men feared staying in such a foreign land with their strange illnesses that cut through otherwise healthy men like butter. Thus, they had returned, and Edric sat waiting for the moment of recognition from one of these strangers that would seal his fate. In that moment, the thought of being found and drug back to Uncle Stannis consumed him, and it chilled him to the bone. His fear seemed to have spread to his companions. They too sat in moody silence while the room around them was a riot of sound, the strangers at the other tables deep into their cups. None of his companions were drinking, and their eyes were shrewd as they glanced around at the drunken men. As he looked at one the men scowled and muttered to the man beside him. “That isn’t right.”

Against his better judgment, Edric turned toward the place the man was looking. Three very small children stood by a table nearby, two of them holding up the pot of stew while the third, slightly older and just tall enough to see over the table, dished out the food as carefully as she could. Her face was screwed up in concentration as she worked. The man whose bowl she was filling glared at her. “Hurry up girl!” the man snapped again. “I’d like to eat it eventually!”

The poor child turned beet red and her hand shook, almost spilling the food onto the table. The man scoffed. “Some service they got in this place. Used to be you could expect a decent meal at the Crossroads. Now you’re more likely to wear your supper than to eat it!” All his companions laughed heartily at his little joke and the girl turned a more vivid shade of red as she moved to the next bowl.

The two smaller children waddled after her, just barely keeping themselves and the soup pot upright. As soon as they were close enough, the girl began the careful process of serving the food once more. “It’s getting cold girl!” the man with all the jokes shouted, much louder than he’d been speaking before.

A few of the others in the room joined in on the laughter, but there was a nervousness about it, and Edric caught the way many more of the men in the room glanced toward the fire in the corner as the man and his companions continued to berate and belittle the girl. He wondered for a moment what made the men so nervous, but his contemplation was interrupted by the ringleader’s voice carried over to him again.

“Place needs to hire decent help is all I’m saying. Get a serving girl who actually knows which end of the ladle to hold. It’s not fit to treat paying customers this way.”

The nervous men in the room glanced over their shoulders toward the fire again. “Just eat your food and shut up before Gendry hears you,” one of them hissed. He followed the command with another fruitive glance. The mere uttering of the name seemed to make the others even more nervous.

The man who had started it all scoffed as the children moved onto the next table. “I don’t give two shits about Gendry. What’s a boy to me?”

No one seemed to challenge the man’s words, but Edric noticed that the tension in the room seemed to increase in a way that was worrisome. He sensed trouble brewing and feared what would happen if they got caught in the middle of it. They couldn’t afford trouble, and if it was close at hand, they would be wise to flee before things got worse. The only thing that kept him rooted in his seat was the smell of the stew close at hand and the emptiness in his belly. So instead he hissed across the table to Ser Andrew, “Who’s Gendry,” hoping that the question would be enough to convey his worry for their safety.

His cousin looked over at him in that understanding way of his, lips parting to assure Edric that everything was fine. “The proprietor most likely,” he said.

A man at the next table interrupted before Edric could reply. “No, the proprietor is long dead. Killed by Lannisters. Or was that the one before? Hard to remember. We’ve been through a few here lately. Who knows what happened to the latest? It’s just been Gendry and the orphans for a while now. Over a year, certainly, probably more. The boy runs the place alright, I guess. There’s ale when we call for it and food that’s half decent. The girl’s even gotten better at serving. Neville’s just an ass.”

Edric could sense the unease his cousin felt about being addressed by this man. Clearly the man had been listening to them speak and heard enough to give them this information. What else may he had heard, or worse, seen? Edric tugged on his hood again and tried to sink deeper into shadow as his cousin addressed the man in return. “So when the old owner died this boy showed up or before?”

The man seemed to understand the question beneath the question. He looked around furtively and lowered his voice. “Can’t say you’re the first to wonder at it, but I doubt the boy hurt her none. He’s in with the Brotherhood far as I can tell, as was the woman who ran this place, and they don’t generally bump off those that are helping them. More likely the boy stayed on after the fact, so there was little chance a new owner less friendly to their cause took over.”

Edric could tell the man’s words meant something to the men he was travelling with, but they meant little enough to him. Ser Andrew nodded as some of the others shifted uncomfortably on the bench. “What’s this boy have to do with them then?”

“Appears to be their armorer. Must be slim pickings for outlaws, I guess. Though the boy does fine work. Must have been trained by somebody at some point, if you ask me. Somebody skilled.” The man laughed suddenly. “And with a great well of patience I imagine.” He did not take the time to explain his little joke, but instead inclined his head toward the fire. “There he is now.”

Edric didn’t bother to follow the man’s eyes, but he couldn’t fail to notice the way his cousin stiffened when he did. And he wasn’t the only one to notice. Some of the others at their table saw their commander’s reaction and followed his gaze. Many of them then froze as well. “What’s wrong?” Edric hissed at them.

Andrew looked back at him suddenly. The expression on his face did not speak of nothing, and when he spoke his voice was not gentle or kind. “Nothing, just eat your dinner. We should be on the road again soon.”

The harshness in his cousin’s tone caught him off guard. Andrew had always been understanding and kind, always took the time to explain what was going on instead of just expecting Edric to obey, the way Stannis always did. What could be so bad that it would cause his mild-mannered cousin to snap at him for no reason? So Edric followed his cousin’s gaze when the man turned to look over his shoulder once more and felt the world drop down around him. Standing in the doorway near the fire stood a tall black-haired boy, wearing a face that Edric hadn’t seen in years. Unbidden a word popped into his brain, _Father._


End file.
